Saving The Marquise's Granddaughter (28 page)

She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

There certainly were plenty of Quaker ministers in Pennsylvania. She tried to tug free, but he held her there like a vise. She recalled other arms wrapped tight around her. Another promise. Etienne implied they would marry. Johan claimed they already had. And was now changing his story. Etienne had known her all her life. And this man only a few months. Had some woman in Philadelphia caught his eye?

She yanked away from Johan. The guilty look on his face confirmed her suspicions. He hadn’t been telling her the truth about something.

“Please, I need to know if you’d accept only a wedding conducted by a Catholic priest.”

This seemed the most ridiculous question to her. She’d met her Maker on that ship. First and foremost, He required a relationship with her, whether she professed to be a Huguenot, a Roman Catholic, a Lutheran, or even a Quaker. Grand-mère had her own faith, as did Papa. She’d attended church with Johan and now with Wyatt at the Anglican church. Suzanne wasn’t sure she could claim any particular denomination as her own. Did Johan not understand what had happened inside of her, in her soul?

“Johan, Master Vann needs you!” Anton popped his head above the bushes. “Pardon me! Those men are back again. He wants you to keep an eye on them. And he asked if the ladies would like a ride home in Scott’s carriage.”

28

As the coachman assisted Suzanne and Sarah up, he mumbled, “Don’t know how Master Scott thinks this light coach will get him all the way to Virginie.”

“Oui, I agree.” Sarah and Suzanne settled into the padded leather seats and they set off. The carriage lurched.

Suzanne clutched Sarah. “I think the horses are excited about the new carriage.”

Sarah squeezed her arm. “I’m excited, too. Mister Scott told me he might race it when he gets it.”

Suzanne kept an arm wrapped around Sarah. “Don’t you dare go with him.”

Sunbeams flickered off the metal trimwork as they road down city streets bordered by hardwoods whose foliage was awash with red and yellow.

The pink of her gown seemed to clash with nature. She fingered the hand-me-down clothing, a pretty day dress belonging to Christy’s wife.

In another lifetime, mother-of-pearl buttons would line her under blouse, and two large cabochon rings would adorn her fingers. Chains of gold with glittering crystal beads would circle her neck, reflecting light as she moved. Her hair would be woven into hundreds of small braids and decorated with pearls.

She touched Sarah’s golden hair. Johan had seen her own completely unbound, had brushed it for Suzanne when she was ill. A rush of pleasure went through her at the thought of his warm hands touching her face, of him pulling her into what he would call a hug and she would term an embrace. How she missed being with him. She sighed.

The carriage driver slowed the bays as they turned onto their street, horseshoes clanking against the cobblestones. As they pulled into the long drive, a silver-haired stranger emerged from the stables, dressed only in buff breeches and a shirt covered by a vest. No jacket. Dirty riding boots immediately brought Guy to mind. This man had ridden long and hard.

The man’s aristocratic face rose in their direction and he froze. The slim man ran with a speed that challenged Suzanne’s senses, and without a sound, like an animal. He exuded sheer physical power as he approached the carriage, staring at her. His solemn, almost statue-like visage transformed into disappointment as he neared, then stopped. The man glanced away, a quizzical look washing his classical features.

“Father!” a dark-haired boy called as he darted from the carriage house. He was half-naked, wearing a breech cloth, leggings, and a loose tunic.

She tried not to gape but couldn’t prevent it.

This must be Colonel Christy and his son. But was the child an Indian? The boy let out a whoop and his father hoisted him overhead and spun him around several times.

Once the carriage was halted, the driver helped her and Sarah out.

“I miss my Papa.” Sarah pressed a tear-streaked face into Suzanne’s skirt.

She stroked the child’s hair. Noel was a good man. Like Johan.

“You must be Suzanne and Sarah.” The striking man drew near, his son close at his side.

Up close, Suzanne could see his hair was un-powdered. His complexion was that of someone in his early middle years—it didn’t match his white hair.

“He looks like a ghost,” Sarah whispered in German. “But a nice one.”

“I’m William.” The boy tapped his chest. He narrowed his almost black eyes at Sarah as though challenging her.

“I’m Sarah and I hope you like to play chase.”

With that, the boy ran off and Sarah followed.

“Forgive my lack of manners. I’m Colonel Lee Christy and you gave me a bit of a start.”

She curtseyed. “Suzanne Richelieu.” If Johan continued to obfuscate she’d not use his name.

“My wife was also French.
Métis
actually.” He gestured toward where the children ran. “As I’m sure you could discern, my son is, as well.” His tight smile asked a question.

“He’s a handsome boy.”

“Gets those good looks from his mother.” Sadness tugged his features downward. “You wear my wife’s dress.”

Suzanne blushed. She smoothed out the pink linen-and-silk gown. “Oui.”

Cool gray eyes appraised her. “It suits you.”

~*~

Now that he knew who to watch for at the forge, Johan and the other new men would be better prepared if something happened on their watch. If only it was easy to look at his beloved’s face and know how she felt. From what he’d seen there, a Quaker minister wasn’t acceptable for a wedding. Johan would woo her, win her.

He’d received Suzanne’s request to come to Christy’s house. Was it true that the boy had come home? Was God answering his prayers again?

Skies full of billowing white clouds covered and then released the sun’s rays as he walked. Soon it would be autumn. Back at home, the hay would need to be brought in. But his family had no harvest this year. How would Mama and Papa make do? How much of the funds Suzanne had left were used by Noel to bring his family across?

Wyatt Scott threw the front door open. “What fortune you sent the ladies. Providential. Come in and I’ll get your beautiful wife for you.” He offered one of his contagious smiles over his shoulder. “And your little cousin, too, or niece, or whatever you wish to call her. Sarah.”

Johan followed Scott, and when the other man ran off up the wide, curving staircase, closed the door, and found his way to the parlor to the right. He lowered into the settee and waited. Dust motes floated, and the room didn’t hold its usual spicy scent.

He rose as Suzanne entered and resisted the urge to pull his sweetheart into his arms. Sarah launched herself at him, and he lifted her up and kissed her on her cheek before setting her back down.

Colonel Christy followed them, his arm slung around the shoulder of a boy dressed in buckskins, a feather dangling from the side of his black hair. Eyes as black as crow’s dominated the child’s somber little face.

Wyatt Scott beamed in contentment as he joined them. He motioned to Johan. “Colonel Christy, this is Suzanne’s husband, Johan Roush.”

Suzanne chewed her lip but didn’t correct him.

Christy was busy holding the squirming boy to his side. “Pleasure to meet you.”

William demanded something in an unintelligible language. He broke free from his father and poked Sarah in the chest. “This Johan is of your tribe, your blood. You belong with him.”

Johan tensed. Surely, the child’s father would intervene. If Johan were free, he’d take Sarah with him.

Sarah shoved him away from her, taking the boy off guard.

William fell backward to the floor at Suzanne’s feet.

She reached down to help him up.

But he was crouching, growling, his teeth bared. And he held a knife in his hand.

Christy placed two fingers at the juncture of the boy’s arm and shoulder, effectively knocking him to his knees. “Put it down, William.”

Suzanne fanned herself vigorously and peered up at Johan, her eyes wide.

“He’s funny!” Sarah covered her mouth and laughed.

Christy led the boy away, telling William in a matter-of-fact voice, “We are not Iroquois, Shawnee, nor any other tribe in this household. Kindly desist from pulling a knife on our guests in the future.”

Suzanne took Johan’s hand. “Perhaps you should come back another day. I’m sorry.”

How could he leave them there with a child such as this? Yet he couldn’t stay. “Ja, I’ll be back tomorrow.” He draped an arm over each of “his girls,” as he was beginning to think of them. His dream of buying property near where this child had just come from—was this a crazy plan?

Suzanne tilted her head at him, her cheeks pink, her face longing for something. A kiss? “Tomorrow, then.”

~*~

After reaching Christy’s property the next day, Johan followed the sound of children’s laughter to the back of the house.

Sarah and the dark-haired boy were throwing a leather-covered ball at each other and shrieking. They paid him no attention.

He hesitated, wondering if he should stay and watch them. He wouldn’t interrupt. No one was being scalped, and they both needed some time for fun, for play. They seemed happy.

Spying Suzanne walking through the rose garden, he went to her. She bestowed a pretty smile upon him, as though he were the finest gentlemen in the world. Her pink gown flounced around her. She reminded him of a rose that unexpectedly bloomed in early autumn, like the opening bud she now touched. “Johan?” That one word was like a caress.

He closed the span between them. The undisguised longing in her eyes warmed him. But her chin was set in stubbornness, causing his head to swim in confusion. She took his hands and rotated him so that his back was to the mansion. Then she carefully stepped up onto his boots and pressed both of his hands together between her own. She held them fast near her embroidered stomacher as she slowly leaned in toward him, tendrils of dark hair tossed by the light breeze. He could scarcely breathe. She looked so lovely, so delicate. But part of him wanted to crush her in his arms and never let her go. When he tried to move his hands, she resisted.

He swallowed. “What are you doing, Suzie?”

She was trying to balance herself atop his feet, avoiding the shoe buckles while straining toward him.

“I desire that you kiss me, and I don’t wish you to hug me.” Her eyes turned dark as she moistened her full lips and tipped her head back.

His legs tensed. He lowered his head and covered her warm lips with his own. She tasted of honeyed tea. He tried to tug his hands free to pull her closer, but the pinch she gave his hands reminded him to stop. When she didn’t pull away, he moved his mouth more forcefully against her parted lips, his entire body gripped by a passion he wasn’t sure he could contain if they didn’t stop this instant.

She jumped back from him, more tendrils falling around her ivory neck. Tears began to stream down her face. “I want you to remember that kiss!” She lifted her quivering chin.

How could he ever forget it? He might just have scorched the earth beneath his feet.

~*~

Such a kiss as that, Suzanne would have remembered. Turning her back to Johan, she clutched her arms and trembled. If he had some other story this time about their exchange of wedding vows, she’d scream. Why didn’t he just offer to marry her again? If he thought he could run off with some girl from Philadelphia, he was wrong. After that kiss,
she
might propose to
him
. Could she keep her thoughts pure? Would it be she who considered their kiss while they were apart?

Warm, firm hands squeezed her shoulders, massaging the tension from them. It felt so good, but she knew she should make him stop. Her body didn’t listen, and she leaned back against him. Every day spent in the company of the irresponsible Wyatt Scott made her long for the security of her Johan. And Christy—he reminded her so much of her father and brother that it was like a wound being reopened. Johan was a balm to that injury.

Two wild banshees came running toward them.

Johan’s hands fell away and he stepped back.

William and Sarah stopped in front of them. They were panting as hard as Johan seemed to be. Good. Let him think about what he was doing.

~*~

Johan kissed the back of her warm neck, her upswept hair soft against his cheek. She shivered and he released her before he acted on his own strong impulses. He waited for his heart to slow.

She did want to be his frau.

Did his grin look as goofy as it felt on his face? But he couldn’t stop smiling. Not through the entire afternoon of playing with the children.

The three other adults watched him, drinking tea and laughing at him as he swooped William and Sarah around the stables, through the rose garden, and around the perimeter of the maze.

Johan hoisted William overhead like a bird, holding him there with one hand under the boy’s firm belly.

Colonel Christy finally came to him. “I apologize for my son’s behavior yesterday.” His lips compressed as though he refrained from saying more. He seemed to force a smile. “I might take up blacksmith work myself or make my soldiers do so if it would give me that kind of energy.”

“Let me down.” William began to twist and Johan set him down.

Scott joined them, looking from a beaming Suzanne, who raised her fan to cover her blushing face. “Too much chocolate at the coffeehouse, Johan?” He glanced between Johan and his beloved. “Or something else?”

The colonel watched Sarah roll her hoop with a rod. “They’ll be good company for each other.”

Johan nodded. “Ja.”

Sarah threw her hoop aside and came to his side. He mussed her hair. “Sarah, I must go now.”

She squeezed his hand and turned her face up for a quick kiss. Then she chased William into the evergreen maze.

Johan had to talk to Suzanne before he left.

Scott and Christy were both grinning at him.

“Excuse me. I must go. I say my good-byes now.”

Suzanne looked like the mistress of this grand estate. But after that heated kiss—perhaps he could keep her happy as his wife. He sat next to her at the small tea table, its ironwork so suggestive of France. He brought her hand to his mouth, her fingers scented with roses and tea. “Don’t worry, love. I’ll make everything all right between us.”